A Grave of Flowers
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Yao Wang is sent as a male courtesan to the House of Everlasting Peace. His luck seems to have permanently gone bad; that is, until a Russian soldier appears to turn his life into a series of betrayal, unrelenting joy, and horrible love. RoChu
1. The Naming of Red Tiger

**1.**

**The Naming of Red Tiger**

When Yao Wang arrived at the House of Everlasting Peace, he burst into bitter tears and broke a window with a nearby rock. For breaking the window he was slapped across the cheek. For picking up a sacred stone as a weapon he was sent to his room: a shabby, cramped space with dusty air. For crying he was deprived of food for a week.

After this, Yao Wang learned not to cross Mother ever again. At the time of his arrival he was only fourteen years old, almost old for a virgin courtesan, and a tangled knot of confused emotions and wild concerns. He lashed for the rock out of instinct and aimed at nowhere and everywhere all at once. Tears blurred his vision. His valise lay on the ground next to his bare, dirty feet. His pant legs were rolled up tightly and his hair, worn long because he never bothered to cut it, swung along his back.

The first sister courtesan of the House of Everlasting Peace to see him mistook him for a boy and wondered where the foretold male prostitute would arrive. Seeing as he did not and instead a frantic beast stood at the foot of the house, groping for more rocks, she rushed out to take him indoors. There, Mother approached him and applied the back of her hand to his cheek. That was Yao's welcome. That is what Mother believed he deserved for having arrived with such a hideous attitude.

"Aiyah! How could we have gotten such a cantankerous child?" Mother sighed.

The eldest courtesan, May Leaf, nodded in agreement. She watched a maid pour Mother her tea and then waddled away, her large bum swaying. May Leaf watched in disgust, pleased not to have been a poor maid who went home to a vicious husband. Her eyes narrowed, her brown irises twitching in contempt. She turned back to Mother.

"But was he expensive?"

"Terribly so," Mother said, running her tongue along her dry lips. Her face was a dry white color, poisoned from lead make-up and years of wear. Her long, gnarled fingers were spread across her knees, tapping occasionally. Mother sighed, her nostrils flaring, dark holes on her face, dark as her eyes. "He is still a virgin, which proves his upbringing. And I believe he was a good purchase. I dare say no other House has a male courtesan in their collection…"

Mother paused, raising her head. She heard feet shuffling past the hall. Her eyes flicked in that direction. The maid in the hall stopped and turned to face Mother, her gaze fastened on to the ground so not to be rude.

"Bring me the new one. I think he has relaxed by now."

The maid nodded and vanished down the hall. May Leaf looked at Mother for a long time, judging what the next course of action would be. May Leaf was a senior courtesan, but she was not old. She was successful but not cheap. She took men by the dozens and all with heavy pockets. The House was not necessarily of a gilded reputation, but May Leaf decided she would try her best to bring Mother more profit, so the courtesans could have some for themselves.

"Will it not seem wrong to the other courtesan Houses that we have brought in a young male?" May Leaf asked. Jealousy began to poison her heart.

Mother laughed in a broken, horrible way; "Pah! Think, May Leaf, can we hear their jeers from atop a mountain of income? Do you know how many men would rather prefer a young male than a used woman?" Her lips spread, revealing yellowed teeth.

May Leaf nearly winced from the force of Mother's bark.

The maid returned with a deflated Yao. Mother beckoned Yao to come closer and dismissed the maid. The maid soundlessly left. Yao slowly dragged himself to Mother, making a show of his stubbornness. Mother ordered him to sit down by her. He did begrudgingly and without a word. She pinched his cheeks and tilted his head this way and that.

Yao's skin was smooth and soft. His lips were naturally full and pink. The top eyelids sloped down evenly, casting a thin shadow over his fiery eyes. His broad forehead allowed for inky hair to spill in an almost feminine way, caressing his slender shoulders and his red peasant shirt. Mother let go of his chin, leaving thick red marks along his jaw. He didn't dare rub them. He watched her evenly, without making eye-contact.

"Wang Yao, you will no longer be known as such. You have stepped on a different road in your life and you must leave the old path behind. You can choose to return to it, but it will be like climbing a mountain. You saw how easy it was to slip to our trail, now imagine trying to climb a steep hill. Your old life is going far away and it will continue without you. You must suffer, you must hurt, and you must live because there is nothing else you can choose to do. In order to remind you of this, we will give you a new name." Mother spoke calmly. She took her tea and sipped it. Dry leaves floated in the top, rocking like ships in a storm.

Yao felt his heart drop to his knees. His fingers curled into fists, but all the fight left his muscles. All that remained was the fire burning in his eyes. Mother noticed this and regarded it quietly, choosing a name for Yao.

"Most of the courtesans here have their private names," Mother continued, "Some choose their old ones and keep it. For others it serves only as an agonizing reminder of a life that dropped them like an unwanted infant. You can choose a secret name or you can keep this one. It is your choice. But you will around me, around the other courtesans, and especially around our customers use the name I will give you. If you ever own your own House then you can use your own names." She added, seeing Yao's face contort.

May Leaf watched the transaction and decided now was the time to finally make her quiet exit. She left like a cat. Mother bade Yao to take May Leaf's seat. Yao scooted to it, tucking his legs beneath him. He waited.

"I can see a tiger in your eyes." Mother said.

The tiger prepared to pounce. But its tail was caught in brambles. Yao lowered his gaze to his fingertips and kept them there. He didn't know what he could do.

"Before I reveal your name, I will explain the rules. In the House of Everlasting Peace you are a part of a heavy machine, just like your sisters here. If one of the cogs cracks or a piece of metal rusts, do you know what we have to do?"

When she paused for some time Yao answered; "you fix them."

"Yes, in a machine where you have the time and resources, you fix the broken parts. Here we have neither, so we throw that piece away and replace it. Your time here is not guaranteed or finite. In a moment you can be snuffed and taken away. I cannot promise you will receive better treatment then. In fact you might be thrown on to the streets where you will be killed if you cannot bring at least twenty men each day. And for you that will be extremely difficult."

"So if I behave—"

Yao's face snapped to the size when it met Mother's palm. Yao stared in the other direction, his eyes passive and his cheek burning bright red. He slowly turned back.

"Do not speak unless you are prompted to. Aiyah! What horrible manners you have."

Yao stared at the table, watching the half-empty teacup trembled with the echo of her slap. His vision blurred as hot tears welled and began to drip down his cheeks and on to the still humming slap.

"Apologize!"

"I apologize, Mother." Yao stated. A maid had told him to call the Madame Mother and only Mother.

"Good, you are learning. A change of scenery can humble a person." Mother offered a lewd grin. Her face stretched where her thin salt-and-pepper hair had been severely pulled back at the temples.

Yao wondered if she did that to stretch out the wrinkles. He said nothing, reminding himself painfully of the bruises and welts he already suffered.

"So here are the rules you must learn for now: respect your sisters and your elders. When you are ordered to carry out a task you must do so without question. For the window you broke you'll have to pay for it. That will cut away from your earnings, so for some time you will have little to spend for yourself. You will pay for your food and for all services done for you. I'd think twice about hassling maids to bring you food wherever you are. Do not think of yourself as king, no matter what your male blood dictates. Here, you are a courtesan, and here you will stay. Do you understand?"

Yao nodded quietly.

"Ah, I am proud to see improvement. A little hit goes quite a long way." She sipped the rest of her tea, allowing Yao to soak up the new information.

It still hadn't hit him yet that he was really here and away from his life before. He felt as though his body was a million miles away and he was a homeless, listless spirit wandering through the streets. He felt he could collapse and the earth would swallow him up. Even the stinging on his head and cheek faded to a dull electric pulse.

"Your name is now Red Tiger."

Yao nodded again and thanked her, resigning to his fate.

There was nothing else he could do.

"Red Tiger, you will be later called by a courtesan to meet all the others. Rain Water will arrive after her appointment. Go to your room for now and sort your belongings. Remember, whatever you have belongs to me as well."

Yao stood slowly as he was dismissed and went back to his room.

He stepped back through the doors and in front of a low bed and an open closet. What few clothing articles he happened lingered in the valise he had thrown open in his madness. Aside from the clothing, a pair of shoes, and other necessary garments, all he had of his own was a jade statuette of a tiger ready to pounce. This he tucked into his clothing, promising that Mother would not own this or his spirit. If she did then he knew he would truly have lost everything. Until then he would suffer and work through his debt, as Red Tiger, and as a male Courtesan of the House of Everlasting Peace.

* * *

><p><em>I do not own Hetalia<em>

_This is not a precise representation of Chinese culture, courtesan houses. This is not a nonfiction essay. It's historical fiction for a reason. _


	2. The Training of Red Tiger

**2.**

**The Training of Red Tiger**

"You must remember that you are not a geisha. You are not here for art. You are here to sell your body and your talents." The courtesan named Summer Bell said.

She tugged at Yao's hair, pulling him back. His chest was bare. A cloth was over his crotch, his hand near it. She carefully dressed him and did his hair. She watched as his face twisted in pain. He refused to speak to her. When Yao's hair was pulled in a tight bun around his head, gleaming like lacquered leather, she placed him in a high-collared blue, modern but still very Chinese dress. He frowned, having never worn a dress before.

"Do not frown, it hurts your features." Summer Bell admonished him. He stood before her, his feet cramped in their bindings. He was born fortunate with small feet as is, so his binding should have been simple. Mother still seemed upset. She decided that since he was male, he had to make up for that downfall in beauty and everywhere else a woman could have the smallest amount of slack.

Yao ran his hands along his front and felt the cool fabric. He still would not make his debut until the following week. For now he would have to train his manners and his gaze, so that he could lure any man and fool him into thinking he was female. The mystery, Mother and May Leaf agreed on, would draw more attention to him and therefore raise the price of his virginity—perhaps tenfold if they were lucky enough.

"You have a small advantage, Red Tiger," Summer Bell said with a faint smile. She was growing older and would soon no longer be an older courtesan but his helped. She would dress him and train him, therefore keeping her job and lowering her risk of ending up on the streets with opium riding through her veins. "Large breasts are unseemly. You have none. If we add a small amount of padding they would be perfect size. Imagine that! It makes up for your penis." She said bluntly.

Yao began to scowl. She pinched his arm and he at once stopped. His expression collapsed into a look of unease. She led him to the table and asked him to sit down. From there she asked him to pretend he was a man of high standing. "How will you act?" She asked.

Yao feigned a faint smile and looked at her, as though absorbed. She scowled. "No! You look like a lovesick tramp. Try something subtle. Men like that. Men do not like to have eyes pinned on them. It makes you more open and they want a challenge. Don't you understand? Now try again!"

Sighing, Yao collected himself. Then, he kept his gaze half-lidded and flicked his eyes occasionally at her, while pretending to talk to an imaginary patron to his left. Summer Bell nodded in approval.

"Good, you are improving."

Then she taught him how to pour tea in a simple, not overly-elaborate why. He proved to be a quick learned and tried his best. Afterwards she began a simple teaching lesson and the start of a poem.

"There is time left before the auction, no need to hurry." Summer Bell said. "Now, let's bathe you and you may rest the night."

Yao was a lower member and had yet to earn enough to afford the pricey fish and delicacies laid out not far from him. He could smell each bite and could hear the smacking of their jaws. He heard them garble about their suitors. One of them, a round-faced girl with darker skin than most went on to describe a lover who enjoyed binding her hands to rocks or the bed stand. Then he would ask her to beg for her life and make muffled screams. Here the girl imitated one of her wails, sounding like a trapped cat. The others laughed. "Then he would mount me and begin to cry, as if it hurt him to do this. He asked my forgiveness and told me not to grant it to him. I did so and he was spent at least three times that night!" They laughed again.

A cold stone formed in Yao's throat. He was unable to swallow his watery soup. He hoped his "lovers" weren't quite as deviant. He didn't like the idea of being tied to anything for that matter, or being mounted. He didn't quite yet understand what most of the talk about sex meant. He imagined "mounting" meant climbing on to the naked girl's back and riding her like a horse or mule. He felt sick and stared at the leaves floating in his tea.

That night he lay on his uncomfortable bed, his feet throbbing from the bindings. The shoes next to him had been worn once before by a prior courtesan. Dried blood stains the maids hadn't been able to wash off still stuck to the sole. Moonlight dripped through the windows and on to his boudoir, where his gifts had yet to be placed.

He wished he hadn't been thrown into his life. He wished his father had only a little bit more money lining his pockets, enough to sell him as a maid at least. He would have preferred life as a carpenter or merchant rather than a place where he sold his body, his spirit.

Soon he was not Yao Wang but Red Tiger. He knew the future held that promise for him. His past would be thrown off like a worn clothing article no one bothered to clean or repair. He shifted on the bed, to his side. One of his hands went to his groin. For now that was still his and untouched, and unseen by anyone but Mother who inspected him. She grinned when he was unable to become aroused at her calloused touch.

"Still youthful," she said, "but men will not be interested in it. Most won't. Most will be interested in the pink bud there." Her dry hand reached between his thighs.

In his bed Yao cringed at the memory, clamping his legs shut.

She felt around his pudendum and his anus, nodding in approval. Of what Yao didn't know. He shivered at her touch, feeling as though ice water had been thrown down his back. Mother turned him around gruffly and inspected his back and buttocks.

"Never beaten," she murmured with a good click of her tongue.

Yao didn't know why but he felt relieved. Then he was ashamed of his relief. He told no one, not even Summer Bell who would eventually become his only friend.

Yao shifted through his thoughts until he fell asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly, and the stepping stones of his future and destiny being laid out, pebble by pebble. He had no control of where the hands put them, but he could at least stop. Couldn't he? The only other way was back and that only worse.


	3. The Auctioning of Red Tiger

**3.**

**The Auctioning of Red Tiger**

No one seemed to agree on their opinion of Red Tiger. The opinions were lost in a sea of unease, interest, taboo, and a massive dollop of excitement. The heads turned. Even the courtesans, trained to seem disinterested in their sisters, were unable to stop their eyes from swiveling in the direction of the red-clad brother of theirs.

Yao sat at the end of the table, demurely next to Summer Bell who pinched him when he slouched or looked too dull. Yao tried to comply. He kept his dark eyes roving around the room, trying to pick a tasty morsel. None interested him. The moment he laid eyes on a handsome one, he was painfully reminded that he could buy his virginity for the price of a house or a fly. Yao tried to appear presentable. He kept his head not perched high, but at a nice angle to seem both humble and confident. His dress, which clamped too tightly around his figure, tortured him with the need to itch. He resisted each moment, his fingers trembling with the anxiety of it. His hair had been done up with white lotus ornaments dangling from the base of his head.

White for purity.

White for virginity.

White for you will lose your spirit much more quickly than you had ever anticipated.

"See that man?" Summer Bell whispered, ducking her head.

Yao slowly raised his chin, to seem elegant. To him his movements came naturally, more naturally than for others at least. Summer Bell discretely motioned to an elderly man smoking a smooth black pipe and joking with his friends.

Instantly Yao's face twisted in disgust. Summer Bell pinched him. "Aiya! Think, Yao, the elder men are more experiences. They tend to be gentler and they pay more. If you have an older patron, then you will be lucky for a season. When he leaves and you receive a younger one who wants to do all sorts of stressful positions you will understand." Summer Bell turned away, as if having disputed with an unseemly child.

During Summer Bell's tirade, Yao's eyes met with someone he had not seen before at any of the previous four or five parties. He had learned not to count them. The man was sitting in a corner further off, where foreigners usually dwelled. He was playing cards with a group of Japanese and English men. He laughed loudly and the room seemed to vibrate with the warmth of it. Yao felt his face flush. How could such a handsome mane exist?

Yao gestured to him.

Summer Bell's lips parted, aghast. "You want a foreigner as your patron? Ahhh, you've really lost your mind! They pay less, they do not understand our customs, and they are horrible at doing it. They have such a strange…" she continued, jabbering an endless stream of complaints against the unruly foreigners. Yao didn't listen. His eyes were pinned on the man, Russian he learned from one of the other courtesan. The man's silvery hair caught fine threads of lights, his strong jaw moved smoothly when he spoke, his gruff hands… oh if only they would touch Yao! If only Yao could have those strong arms wrapped around him, the warmth from the man's chest against his! Yao nearly sighed with the euphoria of his day dream.

The man raised his eyes and briefly met with Yao's. There was a pause, a moment of interest. His purplish eyes inspected Yao, seeing a forbidden fruit hang ripe from a sunken tree branch. Then the man looked away and continued his conversation.

That instant must have been less than a minute in duration, and yet Yao felt all his muscles seize up in their personal infinity. He felt the man's eyes burn into him, to bore deep holes and to burn his spirit. Yao felt a lurching in his belly and felt his crotch aflame. He looked at the elderly man Summer Bell pointed out and tried to imagine what gifts he would bring, and how much he would pay Yao for his virginity. If he paid enough then Yao could hope for an early retirement.

On that thought, Yao swept the room of possible suitors with what he hoped was an enchanting gaze. He noticed one suitor, a young man with all the air of having been born rich and having never seen an empty table. The suitor was sitting next to an older prostitute with the misfortune of larger breasts.

His hands were below the table. Her lips shifted and her cheeks flushed. Yao didn't quite understand what was happening. Comprehension hit him when the man feigned the need to blow his nose, pulling his hand away. His fingers glistened with clear fluid he wiped off secretly on the napkin. Yao felt acidic disgust rising in his throat. He hoped none of his suitors would put their hands down his pants! Imagine the grease stains from food he would suffer down there!

Another suitor also caught his attention. This time it was a middle aged man with a budding, but failing, mustache and eyes like spots of ink. His gaze went to Yao and a smile crept on his face. He looked away.

Summer Bell sighed, having noticed this too. "He may just be the one. Don't worry, Red Tiger, he is not a bad man. He is wealthy and can pay a hefty price. His name is Wu. I do not know his first name, no one does. He claims that Wu is his real name, since it sounds like the English word _woo _and that's what he does. I had him once." Summer Bell added loquaciously.

Yao waited for her to continue. When she did it was with a listlessness of reminiscence.

"He was the adventurous type, always hoping for something new to experience. If he was like that in his youth, imagine him now! He must be at least twice as deviant. He will certainly be interested in trying you. I don't think he's done it with a male, but he certainly has an interest. Once he asked me to dress as a Western business man and stick a wooden pole he purchased into him. I doubt it was as painful as when a man puts the real thing in you!" she laughed, as though the thought was comforting.

Yao felt anything but.

"Will it truly be so painful?" he asked eventually.

Summer Bell shrugged. "For the women it varies. Some feel little pain while others faint from it. As for you, I don't know. I've never experienced it, though I have seen many, many things."

Her eyes grew distant and whimsical. In a moment they clouded over and became sad. Her past crept up on her, bleeding like ink through fabric. She remained sullen until a suitor, another young man who had been busy flirting with another virginal courtesan, called Yao over.

"So! Can the strange flower sing?" he asked.

Yao flushed. At the other parties he was lucky to stay quiet and slip in and out without being noticed, save for the sparing gazes. Summer Bell offered to accompany with music. Yao waved her off, saying he would sing alone.

That he did.

Summer Bell could say nothing. She had heard him practice and had noticed small dabs of talent and of pure skill. She had heard the emotion he poured into his words before, but there was always a dam that prevented the full sorrow or joy from overflowing. Now, that dam had been cracked for a reason Summer Bell would not learn about for a very, very long time.

Yao sang with his eyes closed. He chose a song about sorrow and misery, accompanied by the snow. The men became sullen. Their eyes became like Summer Bell's. They turned away from him and towards him at once. Yao felt nothing but the power of his song. His voice was soon the only sound in the room. He noticed faintly that the cards had stopped being shuffled. He was now the center of attention, and he began to like it.

With each breath he mimicked snow's slow descent to earth. With each sigh he mimicked the winter's breeze. With each word he showed the story of the woman racing through the blizzard, clutching an already dead infant to her breast, and hoping that fate would be kind to her.

When Yao finished on a trembling note and opened his eyes, he received only silence at first. Then a clap, then another, and then the entire room applauded him politely. Yao didn't notice the elder suitor speaking with Mother and then being stampeded by other willing men who didn't mind experiencing it with a male once in a while.

Yao was no stranger to those who hated the idea of a male being dolled up to look female. Some did not even realize Red Tiger was male. Some thought he was simple a flat woman and they enjoyed that, although no particular sex appeal aroused them.

Through all the commotion, Yao only had the attention for one person: the foreigner playing cards.

The Russian was leaning against the table, a cigarette puffing smoke into the air. His eyes were pinned on Yao. They met briefly before Yao turned away, as though the man was unimportant. In reality his heart would not slow down and his skin felt as though it had been dipped in hot water. The man had considered him.

When Yao went home, with several bargains already hanging over his head and one price towering above them all—the middle-aged Wu—he knew that he would preserve his spirit. It would not be broken no matter how many men broke into him. He did not care. All he cared for at the moment was that he would keep his soul under lock and key, for it would only be given to that foreigner.

He could wait a thousand years.


	4. The Consummation of Red Tiger

**4.**

**The Consummation of Red Tiger**

Yao sat on the edge of his bed. Wu stood before him like a towering mountain over a dismal flower. He cast his eyes upwards at his suitor, who had purchased his virginity for a rather high price. Yao felt discomfort in his loins. He crossed his legs in the uncomfortable, white pants and watched as the maids prepared towels and hot water.

May Leaf, Mother, and Summer Bell spent upwards of three hours describing to him what he must do. They told him how to wash Wu's penis of the blood, how it might hurt him horribly. They admitted that they did not truly know the details for Yao, as he was their first male courtesan. Other male courtesans acted as women and sold their talents rather than their bodies. Yao began to envy them.

Then the image of those haunting purple eyes arose in his mind. He wanted desperately to have this man as his suitor. He did not want the money or even the sheer physical pleasure. He wanted to love and be loved.

He admitted all this to Summer Bell over breakfast before Wu was due to his bedroom.

"Aiyah!" Summer Bell exasperated, "You are foolish to believe that this foreigner will be a suitor. And even if he is he will not meet your expectations. He would hurt you and would not give you enough gifts for your love making. You are a courtesan. You must grow accustomed to fleeting love. You will never be happy if you constantly long for something that you can never get."

Yao turned red with rage. "What do you know?" He spat.

"I have been one for years. Now I am somewhat older. I experienced this love once," she sighed wistfully. Her eyes turned hard. "I am telling you this now so you do not make the same mistakes I did."

Yao reviewed the conversation, seeing Summer Bell admonish him over and over again. She stood now behind a door, waiting in case Yao needed help. Once Wu had finished and Yao had done all the necessary procedures, she would come in and give him herbal tea. "At least we do not have to worry about pregnancy, eh?" she laughed as she explained this latter half.

Wu approached Yao, his shadow dancing in the candle light. Yao rose to his feet and, at Wu's order, began undressing the portly man. He tried to stop his hands from shaking as they undid the western suit and pants, leaving Wu in only his underwear. Wu batted him off and told Yao to undress.

Yao did so.

"Turn around and lie with your belly on the bed."

Yao nodded, slipping naked and exposing the white pallor of his skin. He lay down, feeling a cool breeze swish over his body. His muscles tensed. He knew what was bound to come. His heart began to beat faster, and he felt no arousal—only fear of that thing—that huge thing he had seen poking out of Wu's underpants. He imagined it ripping a large hole through his body. He wondered how his sisters handled it.

Wu's hands felt Yao's body, rubbing against Yao's soft muscles and even flesh. His calloused hands went between Yao's thighs and pushed them apart. Yao complied, closing his eyes. "Do you want me to scream?" Yao asked politely, almost sexually.

"That would be preferred," Wu said. He had purchased Yao for a season, summer, and now Yao would see what the next few months of his life would be like.

He felt a hand brush past his genitals and was tempted to squirm. Then he felt something rigid against him and he let out a tiny gasp.

"I'm happy to see I wasn't lied to," Wu said with a small grin Yao caught in the mirror perched just behind the bed. Yao shut his eyes tight and waited. At first he felt the slow pressing and pushing, like fitting a coin into a slot, and then a thrust that caused him to shriek out loud. He gripped the pillows and pressed him to his face.

Searing pain leaked through his body, followed by a tangled knot of pleasure overshadowed by the initial pain. Hot liquid rushed down his legs. He moaned. Wu continued to thrust into him, sending a new, confused wave of euphoria and agony coursing through him.

Wu's arm wrapped around his belly and turned him around. Wu's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were focused. Yao felt dizzy with pain. He felt as though now there truly was a gaping hole in his body. For a brief moment he thought it was over, until a new, heavier thrust penetrated him and sent his head back, bursting with a scream. Wu gripped his hands. Sweat trickled down his sides. He moved with each thrust, feeling the pain grip his body.

When it was over and another warm fluid filled him, Yao unsteadily sat up. His entire bottom half throbbed. He wiped Wu's now limp member of white matter and red and black blood. Wu turned away. Summer Bell rushed in with the maids.

"Not as much blood as I had," Summer Bell said. She picked up the soaked towel and asked Yao to lie back down. He did, feeling black leak in and out of his vision. He could barely hear Summer Bell, only the echoed thudding of his heart and his raspy breaths. Summer Bell inspected the new tear along Yao's anus with a click of her tongue. "So strange…"

Yao fainted.

When he woke up he could smell bitter tea below his nose. He took greedy sips, hoping the pain would go before he was conscious of it again. He had no such luck. It returned like sharp knives digging into his belly. He grunted and asked for more tea.

Mother shook her head. The courtesans of the house called her "ma" with different intonation, meaning "horse" rather than "mother". Yao prepared the fiery insult, but swallowed it back when she offered him a nearly compassionate look.

"Now you have suffered the first trial, the rest will only be surviving. You will suffer plenty of pain, but that is our life. You can hope to escape, but then you will realize how miserable it is to live on the streets like a dog." She said.

Yao took a long bath afterwards. He touched himself and felt a tingling pain. He retracted at once, finding caked blood on his fingers. He washed himself off as best as he could, wondering how he would use the bathroom while squatting without widening the cut. The thought amused Summer Bell.

The next lesson was about sex, now that he was no longer a virgin. She decided she would propel all her knowledge and wisdom on to him, so that he may be successful, despite being male. They sat across from each other. Yao still felt pain gripping him. He knew Wu would come the following night, having been generous to skip an evening. Yao worried that he was not pleasing enough.

"You must adapt to each man's needs," Summer Bell explained, sipping her tea daintily, "Each man likes something different. Some like role playing, some like anything but the genitals. Yours will most likely be homosexual men or men who want to be adventurous, so you have to decide by yourself. I wish I could help you, really, I do, but there is very little I can do here." She said compassionately. She had the horrible gift of excess empathy. Yao knew. He never wanted to use it against her, only for her.

Destiny's path was changing directions again.

Yao perked up, raising his head from the bed as Wu prepared to enter him, applying a lubricant around his orifice. Wu had said something about destiny.

"I beg your pardon?"

Wu repeated his statement.

"Why do you say this?" Yao asked. Wu bade him to sit up for now and arouse him. Yao did just so. He took Wu's member and applied his learned skills, feeling like a machine and not a human, like this act was no longer something done between lovers. Like this act was a mathematical problem or cleaning up broken glass: a matter of course.

"China is changing, the world is changing, and I can see it in your eyes that the tiger spirit is bound for a new forest." Wu said in his offhanded, candid way. His eyes were impassive, but his cheeks red, a sign that Yao was doing a good job. "I would be careful, Red Tiger."

Yao felt a cold lump form in his throat and the rest of the night passed like a bad dream.


	5. Existence

**5.**

**Existence**

The old grandfather clock shattered the silence. The sounds of a pen scratching stopped abruptly and Alfred F. Jones looked up. The small San Francisco room, caught in the middle of a downpour, seemed to grow silent. The story had stopped, like a river that had ceased flowing. Yao sat before him, his skin dry and worn but still retaining all the beauty of his former glory days as a courtesan. His clothing was purely Chinese and his hair was tied up in a simple bun: just enough to tell a story.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry for having kept you for so long. It is nearly nine." Yao said solemnly, turning his sage eyes towards Alfred. Alfred looked into the pits of black, hoping for an emotion. He thought he saw a glimmer of sorrow.

"No, it's no problem, I've written three chapters. When would you like me to come back?" Alfred asked, hoping for sooner rather than later.

Instead of responding, Yao offered a small smile. The rain continued to slide down the windows, pattering away in Chinatown. Yao raised his arms, the blue sleeves dripping to the floor. He placed them on the table and fingered the rim of his tea cup. The amber liquid trembled inside.

"You are impatient and want to hear the rest, is that not so?"

Alfred nodded sheepishly.

Yao sighed. "For some time life went well, I'll tell you in detail tomorrow evening, and this is my warning: if you do not wish to hear the rest of my life when it ceases to be a romantic tale and becomes pain and sadness, you must choose tonight." Yao looked behind Alfred's shoulder. He nodded.

A maid walked towards Alfred and cleaned up the teacup. She was elderly and had trouble moving the left side of her face after a blow from a man in a brothel. Her hands were thick with muscles. She offered Alfred a polite smile.

Once she left, Alfred stood. Yao shook his hand and Alfred left, taking his black umbrella from the stand. He stepped into the pouring rain, prying the umbrella open and tossing it over one shoulder. He heard the rain drum against the top, holding his notebook close to him. He would transfer it to his type writer when he got home. He smiled to himself, though the gesture felt empty and weak.

He was living another's life, hoping to shed light on the foreign, other planet known as Shanghai. Most Americans had only heard of it, like a painting in another room. He had already written a story about a geisha who had come over to America in her retirement.

Alfred stopped before his house, holding the key. He watched a drop of rain catch on to the end of the metal. It trembled before dropping down to create a splotch of black against the cement. Alfred swallowed, not knowing how the sadness had rose in his chest.

Yao, like that rain drop, had held on until he fell.


	6. The Love of Red Tiger I

**6.**

**The Love of Red Tiger**

**Part I**

One of Yao's patrons, buying him just after he turned sixteen, was perhaps one of the greatest and worst experiences of his life.

Late autumn, with leaves turning purple and the temperature dropping, came and went with many parties. The sticky heat of China had now mostly dissolved, leaving cool nights and congealing with the beating sunshine. Yao enjoyed watching the trees sway with each breath of wind. He drank his tea near the windows, listening to Summer Bell tell him stories of her childhood.

"Ah, before I was sold here I lived with a rich family. I was the youngest child. I remember playing near the ponds and trying to catch the fish. My grandmother at the time had gone mad! She batted at my head, saying those fish were sacred and killing them would bring me bad luck. I didn't think a lopsided, silvery fish could be of any use, let alone sacred." Summer Bell sighed at the recollection, her gentle nature swimming in her eyes.

Yao returned with a story of his childhood, how there was a girl in the house nearby who would throw stones at him occasionally. She always missed.

"A feisty spirit," Summer Bell nodded sagely.

That evening Yao attended a party hosted by Mr. Wu, whom he no regarded with respect. Nothing in his heart lingered for the man who purchased his virginity. If anything, he had even less desire. Yao no longer saw the Russian man, the soldier, and so he decided to let the bird free from its cage and succumb to his fate.

Sitting at the end of the table with various men who did not know Yao's gender but were insanely curious, Yao caught the attention of Zhu. Zhu walked over to that side and sat down, claiming to want a piece of the fish lying on the table. He reached over and plucked a string of flesh with his chopsticks, his dark eyes flashing towards Yao. Yao lowered his gaze demurely. He had not had a patron for two weeks now. Mother threatened to kick him out if he didn't find one.

Zhu had a broad face, hinting at Mongolian heritage. He had a heavy crop of hair and wore a neat suit, proving his wealth. But Yao did not like everything that the man displayed in his lusting, curious eyes. There was a sense of urgency there that frightened Yao. Yao had learned quite well how to read men, being one. Although, lately, he had felt less and less like a man; but nor did he see a woman when he stared at the mirror. He saw an object ready to be bought. Nothing more. A mask without a human behind it, or maybe a ghost.

"Why don't you recite a poem, Yao?" Wu asked loudly, having noticed Zhu's fitful gaze. He had developed a tender spot for Yao. He smiled gently, the memory of his penis digging into tight flesh ignited in his mind.

Yao nodded and stood, reciting a poem elegantly and gracefully. He felt as though Zhu's urgent eyes were burning holes in his flesh.

This proved to be a success. Zhu requested tea with Yao and gave him a necklace of jade. Yao thanked him, as he would for the next several gifts until Zhu purchased a season from him. Yao awaited the night Zhu would have his way with him.

Yao was in his room while Summer Bell offered to put away Zhu's clothing. He sat on the edge of his bed, his legs crossed and his hands on his lap. He did not feel fear. He had shut his brain off for the moment, knowing what will come would be brief. Zhu will do his business, be spent, and then move on. Later he would return for more when he wanted to. He would award Yao with gifts. And so on and so forth…

The doors opened and Zhu, dressed formally, entered. He and Yao sipped tea, discussing petty matters and poetry, which Zhu admitted to be fond of. Yao smiled politely and uncrossed his legs, showing a small sliver of his pudendum before retreating to the bed.

"This necklace is beautiful," he said, "can you please put it on?"

Zhu approached him, picking up the first gift: the jade necklace. Yao inclined his head forwards, exposing the pallor of his neck and the fine buttons of his spine that ran through symmetrically. His black hair drifted in his hands. Yao looked at the circular mirror before him. Zhu's trembling hands, his quiet demeanor alive on his face, took the necklace and fastened it on Yao's neck. His fingers brushed Yao's skin. Yao felt his heart drop to his knees and his body flush.

What had happened?

Yao felt he would burst from the feeling. He looked at Zhu, soft spoken Zhu, and Zhu's cheeks were crimson. Yao turned and naturally, like a river flitting down its course, he kissed Zhu. Zhu muttered something and he lay down, pulling Yao to him. They kissed for a long time. Yao forgot he was a courtesan, feeling something so close to love. He felt his clothing shed and when he was naked he did not feel exposed and vulnerable, but proud of his skill. He raised his legs and allowed Zhu entrance to this new thing. Zhu had only courted one female courtesan before. Yao moaned without anything artificial ringing in his voice. It all came naturally. It was all meant to be.

Once finished, Zhu plumped down next to Yao, whispering to him and running his hand along Yao's belly. Yao trembled, feeling as though a huge void had opened between his legs, and wanting more.

"I've never felt like this before…" Zhu said, his heavy brows rising. He seemed as though he would smile.

"Neither have I," Yao said, and he meant it this time.

Zhu kissed Yao's temple and fell asleep softly. Yao nestled in Zhu's arms. Briefly he desired for those arms to belong to that large Russian, but that desire he realized was nothing but a foolish dream of a fifteen year old virgin courtesan. He had to be content with what came his way. Otherwise he would always suffer. Yao nestled his head next to Zhu's, and he too fell asleep, wondering where his next stop would be.

The next day Yao explained his love to a miserable Summer Bell. She shook her head furiously. "Aiya! What have you done to yourself? No! This won't do! You cannot become a wife to him, he must already have one, and you cannot become a concubine unless you magically grow a womb and vagina! And even if he is homosexual he cannot go against his family. He is rich. He has power. He cannot ruin it for a silly courtesan."

Yao wanted to strangle her and ring her like a bell. His cheeks darkened briefly. Then the truth of her words hit him. He lowered his gaze with a deep frown.

"Then what can I do? He said he never felt this way about anyone before."

"Ah, all men are crazy after sex."

"Surely he must have had some grain of truth!"

"Learn now or you will be heartbroken later." Summer Bell said gravely, "And, if you choose not to accept it now, it will hurt much more later!"

"Older Sister, what can I do?"

"Do you not listen to what I have been telling you?" She asked sternly, clasping her fan in her hands. Yao poked at his breakfast, recalling Zhu's attempt at attracting his attention with a fish. A painful wave of lovesickness hit him and he felt dizzy, like he might collapse.

Summer Bell noticed and her expression became gentle once again. "Oh, Yao, love is a hard enemy to defeat. In fact, I doubt anyone can. It is as omnipotent as time. At least you have slept with him. Most women cannot even get that with men they love."

"But I don't feel as though that is enough."

"Then get more gifts from him."

Yao decided not to prolong this argument and stared out towards the gray sky, waiting for winter.


End file.
